


Remembering

by viatorix



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Masturbation, Mentions of addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viatorix/pseuds/viatorix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been so long since Cullen felt the curl of arousal in his gut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink meme prompt:
> 
> 'One of the rare effects of taking lyrium is impotence and complete lack of any sexual urges, which is exactly what happened to Cullen.
> 
> When he stopped taking lyrium, he started to experience desire for the first time in years. He decides to takes care of himself, slowly exploring his body, touching himself all over, discovering erogenous zones, no rush, no shame, just him and his hands roaming all over his body.
> 
> Optional warm bath.'

The water was searing hot when he stepped into the tub, but Cullen welcomed the heat, feeling his muscles loosen from their knotted state. He sighed as he dipped beneath the surface, running a hand through his hair to dislodge the oil that smoothed the strands and letting his natural curls twist against the nape of his neck. It had been a very long time since Cullen had a proper bath, and he could stop the smile tilting his lips as he settled into the depths. It was just about impossible to drag a tub all the way to his office, not to mention how odd it would be to strip amongst his reports and training dummies and bathe in the middle of the room. Luckily, at the Inquisitor’s insistence, Cullen had temporarily been moved to quarters in a secluded end of the fort. Close enough to be provided with a tub, but far enough away from others that Cullen could enjoy his privacy, at least until the roof above his bedroom was repaired. Ever since his departure from Kirkwall, and even a bit before, he had been reduced to a sponge and a pot of rapidly cooling water to try and scrub away the dirt and grime from his body. It had been fine, he was-- had been a Templar, after all. He could endure.

Cullen reached over the lip of the tub for the soap, which he quickly lathered on his skin. Even though the tub was small, and he had to bow his legs, washing himself was so much easier. He took the time to get into those hard to reach places – under his nails, the balls of his feet, and between his toes. It was on his return journey upward that his thumb accidently tweaked a nipple as it glided past, the nail flicking over the delicate skin. A needle of pleasure pricked at the touch. _Ah._ That was something he had not felt in a very long time.

For all its use and power, taking lyrium had, had an undesired side effect. It was known, something the older Templars would shake their heads at when pestered about by worried recruits. Those same recruits would then whisper and laugh about it to one another, jesting at what-ifs and maybes; placing it on a list with many far odder make-believe effects, one of which, if Cullen could recall, included being able to see through clothing. But it was not made-up like so many others in the back of the prayer room of a chantry. Though rare, it was very much real, and Cullen, for all the joking with his fellow rookies in the shared hall of the barracks, fell victim to it. The effect was the absolute death of his libido, and the complete lack of sexual pleasure, should Cullen had been so lucky as to obtain a partner. He’d hadn’t, before taking his first philtre in his eighteenth year, and the lyrium had made sure he wouldn’t so long as he kept popping the cap of another. He hadn’t told anyone save a few distraught words to Kinloch’s healer, doing so would have opened him to ridicule by his peers. Nor did he let it stop him from becoming the best Templar he could. It had been his dream, if that was what he had to sacrifice for it, then so be it. This lack of sexual drive may have been the only thing that saved him from the demons when Kinloch fell, and for that, Cullen was thankful.

Now though, with the lyrium slowly leaving his system, those urges, supressed for so long were finally returning.

He let the bar of soap drop to the base of the tub, and ran a hand along the cusp of his collarbone, fluttering where it touched the surface of the still delightfully warm water. There was no urgency to his actions, no reports had to be written, and no one would disturb him at so late an hour. Cullen was alone, and able to explore and enjoy this returning pleasure in complete privacy; Maker damn him, if he wasn’t going to grasp this opportunity. He smoothed this fingers down the muscles of his chest to roll the little pink bud of a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, humming when the little sparks of electricity returned to pulse under the sensitive nub. Cullen arched into the touch, it was almost too sensitive, and he traced the other when the tingling came too quick. He had time, there was no need to rush.

Eventually his hand wandered south, pressing at the muscle in places and mindlessly dipping into his navel before he curled his digits into the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. He didn’t touch the length, but savoured the way it stirred at his ministrations. The pressure of his fingers around the base caused a low thrum under his skin regardless, and he edged down, cupping his balls and rolling them in his hand. Cullen sighed wistfully. He’d tried, of course, over the years to elicit a reaction out of himself but to no avail. Even though he knew the cause, knew the price, it didn’t stop him from feeling a little _broken._ Why him, after all? Why, out of all the possible Templars this could effect, did it have to be him? In the beginning, especially during his infatuation with Amell, even though the Healer had confirmed his fears, he had tried to force himself through it. He had imagined her supple breasts cupped in his hands, the warmth of her thighs wrapped around his waist as he took her in a darkened hollow of the Tower, but no, all it had left him with was misery laced with frustration. Cullen had recoiled within himself then, his stammer increasing tenfold when she was around – her mere presence echoed the embarrassing reminder of what he could not give her, even if she had returned his affection.

Cullen spread his hand. With the attention he had paid to his balls, he had excited his cock to full hardness. The strain against his groin was an odd feeling, one he was sure he’d almost forgotten. Moving down further, he wondered… He had listened to some of the bawdier conversations of his peers and heard them discuss a spot inside that felt like nothing else. Cullen had been confused, maybe even a little disgusted, but he couldn’t speak against it. How would he know whether or not it felt good? The ring of muscle was taunt, and Cullen had to adjust his position in the tub to get at it. He braced one leg against the lip of the bath, and curled his wrist around, pushing an index finger gently against his entrance, breathing shakily through his teeth as he slowly breached himself. His fellow Templar did not lie, while the sensation was odd, it felt _good._ He whimpered as a heady wave of pleasure rippled down to his toes, and Cullen wasn’t even sure he had found the spot yet. He had pushed the tip of another finger in before he had to stop. It was too much. He left the puckered ring, fearing he may come before he had even touched his cock, but he filed what he had learned away; that would be an exploration for another night.

By this point, his cock was well and truly ready. Pre-cum beaded at the tip; washing away when the water was disturbed as Cullen nestled his raised leg back beneath the surface of the slowly cooling bath. He grasped the base of his length, suddenly a bit unsure. He had explored other parts of his body, but he felt like he should know this part off by heart. The memories were a little hazy, but he gave the shaft a few soft pumps, inhaling sharply at the sudden heat that pooled in response _. Maker, that felt good._ The Commander settled back further into the little, metal tub, pumping and twisting a bit more harshly, and he groaned as he flicked his thumb over the head, pressing the pad into the slick slit. He groans soon turned into loud, unashamed moaning as he worked himself, legs spread and straining against the opposite edges of the tub, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Cullen rolled his hips with the motions of his hand, and he was never more glad for the location of his lodgings as his keens echoed throughout the chamber, thrown back at him by the light of the mounted torches that flickered along the walls. The water spluttered and splashed over the sides, but Cullen didn’t care – he was too lost in his own mounting pleasure. The heat in his gut became intense, and it coiled in on itself like a spring aching to be released. He soldiered on, varying the pressure as he twisted and turned his fist, the crest of his release almost upon him. Then:

Cullen came with a cry, cum exploding from his length in ropes, mingling with the churning water. He continued to pump himself shakily through the aftershocks; even as his whole body caught alight from the waves of pleasure that roiled and raced along his nerves, sparking points from his ears, down to the tips of his toes. Pricks of white blinded Cullen’s vision as he panted, returning to himself. His thoughts were like wisps – insignificant and unreliable. He also felt tired, as if he had fought a long battle, and he supposed he had, in a way. One long fought, and duly won. The water had turned cold now, but Cullen didn’t mind, instead taking the time to relish the moment. It was a victory, even if he had yet to win the war.

 


End file.
